


All Of Your Love Is Sunlight

by Sybariticfanfiction (SybariticReyna)



Category: Darksiders (Video Games)
Genre: Discussing Deadnames, Fluff, Gen, Multi, Nephilim (Darksiders), Nephilim Headcanons, Other, This Is A Comfort Fic Do Not Worry, Title from a Hozier Song, its vague!! so u can imagine it how u choose, just like most of my fics, listen y'all know the score, mentioned past transphobia, reader & war arent Romantic in this one but they love each other a lot, trans reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-16 22:10:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19940767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SybariticReyna/pseuds/Sybariticfanfiction
Summary: demons are terrible, War is annoyed, but the human makes it a bonding experience





	All Of Your Love Is Sunlight

**Author's Note:**

> :3ccccc 
> 
> warning for reader saying their previous family wouldnt respect their name & the implications that come w that   
> and vague talk of a fight. I wouldnt call it graphic/tag it but just to be safe skip it if you're uncomfy <3

True Name, as far as you can tell, is the demonic equivalent to a deadname. The first time you hear the phrase its hissed by a lower demon, unsuccessfully trying to intimidate War. It doesn’t work particularly well, but it does  _ infuriate  _ him. He remains in a sour mood for the rest of the day too, forcing you to walk on eggshells as to not be on the receiving side of his world class glares. He wouldn’t ever actually hurt you, that you’re sure of, but you don’t like when he’s angry either. It upsets your dynamic.   
  
The second time is during a quiet conversation with Vulgrim, who is more than happy to “gossip” with you as War tears through the demons up ahead. He explains that its common for demons to take on different names during their lives, sometimes for kicks and sometimes at Special Times. He doesn’t specify what counts as a special occasion, but does mention that some names are passed on from master to protégé upon death (the most prominent that you recognize being Lilith).    
  
Apparently the Horsemen’s True Names have been a large source speculation, given that they don’t follow the typical naming pattern that nephilim had. No one even really knows who the younger three were before the culling because of their name change. Death was one of the First so he was pretty well known before then, but his true name has been long since overshadowed by Death.    
  
War is most interesting, according to Vulgrim, because of his defensiveness. Which hey. Understandable, you think. If you had random demons demanding your deadname 24/7, you’d be pissed too.    
  
Now… if only there were a good way to talk to  _ War  _ about this. It might make him less angry about it if he knows you can relate.    
  
You drum your fingers idly against your weapon as Vulgrim continues chattering, all too happy to have someone new to gossip with. You hum and nod along, but the various affairs of demons don’t really interest you all that much unless you can use it as leverage. Given that War much prefers killing to conversing with demons, you don’t think any of the ones Vulgrim is so carelessly jabbering about will require such an approach. If he had dirt on Samiel, well, that would be different.    
  
(There is a smidgen of interest when he mentions that some of the Hellguard have defected, but the way he dances around confirmation makes you think that rumor is  _ only  _ a rumor).    
  
War returns after clearing out most of the area, covered in blood and looking more relaxed than you’ve seen him in days. Clearly he’s worked off some of his anger on the demons.    
  
He even smirks when you make at face at him, eyeing a suspicious stain on his cowl. It’ll be gone in a few hours no doubt (and at this point you’ve stopped questioning shit like “how is his armor self cleaning but his sentient sword not self sharpening?”), but you don’t have to like it in the meantime.    
  
You push your bonding idea to the back of your mind for now. If he’s feeling better there’s no real reason to bring it up again and possibly sour his mood. You like War as happy as he can manage, and you do a pretty damn great job of it if you say so yourself.    
  
So it’s safe to say that the third time you hear the words “true name” it isn’t  _ planned. _   
  
It takes a special kind of confidence to say, “Tell me your true name and I’ll let your human live,” when said human has a gun pointed at you. The demon only has a sword too, and you wonder where he gets the idea that he can both survive your shot  _ and  _ make it within stabbing distance before War runs him through with Chaoseater.    
  
Demons truly are fascinating creatures.    
  
You don’t need to look over at War to know he’s snarling, eyes bright with anger.    
  
You smile. “How about this? You shut the fuck up, I shoot, and War turns you to ribbons?” You don’t wait for it to respond before completing your part of the suggestion. The bullet finds its mark through his wrist, forcing him to drop the sword.   
  
He lunges for you anyway, fangs bared, but War is quicker. He always is.    
  
Your absolute faith in War might get you into trouble one of these days, but not today. He tears through the annoying little demon with ease, and you continue on your way.    
  
He’s still… angry afterwards, and you hate that there’s no good way for you to help him. It’s up to him if he wants to talk about a demon trying to endanger you over his deadname.    
  
And besides, its not as if demons trying to endanger you is a  _ new thing _ . Truthfully its pretty fuckin old hat at this point. The reasons behind them trying to kill you vary, but not by much. Being a human makes you a much easier target than your Horseman. War cares for you, so they care about hurting you.    
  
War still seems to be annoyed by the whole thing, always growling about honor whenever you mention that it makes sense. He’s just Like That, you suppose. Nothing you can really do to change it, nor would you want to.    
  
You watch him out of the corner of your eyes, his irritation obvious at least to you. He’s good at keeping his face neutral (or scowling, but for War that’s  _ basically  _ neutral), but he’s never been good at keeping his body language in check. His movements are sharper, quicker when he’s angry, and he has more difficulty accommodating your limits. Usually he’s pretty careful about making you rest the moment you look a little winded.    
  
Dumb, caring Horseman.    
  
You roll your eyes. “War, I’m tired. You wanna rest for a bit?”    
  
He glances back at you curiously, eyes sweeping your figure before he nods. Like he needed to make sure you’re actually tired or something.    
  
“You want some?” You ask as you settle down and begin rifling through your backpack for food. War has taken to eating with you once in a blue moon, although he doesn’t really seem to enjoy it. Maybe he just figures sharing food is some weird human bonding ritual and doesn’t want to be rude.    
  
The scant half a granola bar that you place in his outstretched palm is comically small compared to said palm, but he quietly thanks you anyway. “Are you going to rest?” He asks after a moment.    
  
“I am resting.” Technically.    
  
War’s eyes narrow, “Are you going to  _ sleep  _ before we continue?”    
  
“Ohhhhhh.” You say, mock comprehendingly. “Yeah, probably. A nap sounds good. Especially after that  _ harrowing  _ encounter with that one douchebag demon.”    
  
It never fails to amuse War when you mix formal speech and human insults. He smiles, just a little bit, and you know logically it shouldn’t make you as happy or as proud as it does  _ but…  _ that’s how it be sometimes.    
  
But his grin is gone as quickly as it appeared, leaving him looking like he’s caught between anger and regret. “I… apologize that the “douchebag demon” was trying to use your life as a bargaining chip.”    
  
Sucks that he decides to start talking about serious stuff right after you chomp down on your half of the granola bar. You hold up a hand to assure him you  _ will  _ answer, right after you’re done eating. And taking a sip of water. And thinking through how you want to go about this conversation.    
  
“So. You wanna like. Talk about how it was trying to kill me and how fuckt’  _ that  _ was, or do you wanna talk about how much the whole true name bullshit is bothering you?” You finally ask.    
  
War grimaces. “Neither.” He clearly expects you to challenge it.    
  
You simply shrug. “That’s fine.”    
  
War seems suspicious at best. “...you’re not known for being incurious.”    
  
For being  _ what.  _ You narrow your eyes, “I’m pretty sure incurious isn’t a word but okay.”    
  
“It is.” He deadpans.    
  
“It’s not, War.”    
  
He half laughs, like he doesn’t want to but he can’t help it. It’s a cute sound, although “War” and “cute” rarely belong in the same sentence. Being a ten foot tall harbinger of the apocalypse and all. “You’re avoiding the question.”    
  
You don’t remember there being an actual question in there but  _ sure. _ You start packing your lunch stuff back up and getting your nap stuff out. “When humans change their names the old one is called your deadname.” Well. Usually only for trans people, but that would take even longer to explain. The concept of being trans isn’t one you’ve ever felt inclined to get into with War.    
  
You don’t glance up, but you can picture War’s thinking face. He falls quiet as you set up a space to sleep. One blanket underneath you to keep off dirt and one to actually keep you warm, although with War nearby the second one is almost unnecessary.    
  
It’d be even warmer if he got cuddly, but he doesn’t seem like he’s in that kind of mood and you don’t wanna push your luck.   
  
You’re just settling down again when War asks, quieter than usual, “You have a deadname?”    
  
It takes effort not to wince. “Yes. My family used to still use that name actually. Sort of a sore spot.” The last bit is more mumbled, but War has always had good hearing.    
  
The implication that your family wouldn’t respect your chosen name, were they still  _ alive  _ in the first place, is not lost on him. He… doesn’t know how to comfort you. He would usually offer to kill anyone who hurt you, if only to make you laugh and swat at him ( _ murder isn’t the solution to everything, Horseman _ ).    
  
But they’re dead, and you still look very close to tears as you look down at your blanket, nails digging into the worn fabric.    
  
“Um. I’m gonna take a nap then.” You say, taking a deep breath.    
  
War makes a grumbling noise, low in his throat, and you glance up to find his hand extended. A rather obvious invitation. Because War can’t just say  _ come cuddle me _ out loud. Of course not.    
  
You snuggle on in with a laugh. “Good night, War.”    
  
“Good night,” and he says your name, your  _ chosen  _ name, with a tenderness that makes your heart ache.

**Author's Note:**

> I chose the title shamelessly bc of the lyrics: "His heart would not take flight  
> Betray the moon as acolyte  
> I'm first and fierce if I'm in sight of  
> Sunlight, sunlight, sunlight  
> All that was shown to me, sunlight  
> Something so known to me, sunlight oh sunlight  
> All of your love is sunlight  
> All of your love is sunlight (Sunlight, sunlight)  
> That's what it is, sunlight" &  
> "At last can grant a name  
> 'Til buried in a burning flame  
> Is love in its decisive pain, oh my  
> Sunlight, sunlight, sunlight"   
> because I'm Soft As Fuck & and y'all just gotta. deal w that.   
> anyways syb is fuckin back at it again I bought warmastered edition for ps4 bc i'm terrible and it was on sale. just threw myself back into darksiders w/o hesitation. rest in pieces


End file.
